Back to my cave

I can't really say it's your fault;
or mine.
What is fault after all... what is flaw?

I can't really say you did wrong
nor the opposite would apply.

So what am I doing here?

Nothing... nothing at all.

Time passes... and nothing.
Pages turn... nothing.
Good or bad... empty.

There I go back to my cave.

You hear my crying... nothing.
You see my standing... nothing.

And then I die back to my cave again.

Absolutely nothing.

Raimundo

Quem espera que seja eu agora o próximo a não chorar mais...
a não dizer as palavras erradas e sem tropeço desatropelar.
Ou era eu quem estava em seu caminho?

Então talvez não seja o tempo, a mágoa, a discrepância;
talvez seja apenas falta de compreensão.
Você dizer que entende, e eu dizer que não.

Quem espera que seja você agora que entrará na fila...
que viverá o dia com a tristeza de saber que o melhor já foi.
Seria bela a troca de histórias como se personagens não fossem afinal.

Ou talvez eu simplesmente não existi.
Poderiam assim explicar a falta de calha que (não) me deixa transbordar.

Ah,
se afinal o passado tivesse seu lugar no mundo
quem teria o seu lugar ao sol?

The safety net

So today I caught myself thinking about closure
about how I'd let memories go or, at least, not stick around
and I thought about burning all your remains
as I cannot bring myself to bringing them to my home

But can we really burn memories?

So I might as well just return them in person
just give back what was really never mine.
But I am not ready to look at your face again
and I do feel that's a moment I'll never experience in life.

What do I do now then?

I misled myself into believing
love is safe nest or even
a safety net

Love is not that at all!

Love is bunch of old pictures,
some used clothes
pieces of paper with your handwriting
and a long long lonely life.